“You’ll let us go?”
He nodded. “You haven’t seen my face. You don’t know where this place is.”
A long moment. She stared around her at the basement. She muttered a word. A name, he thought. Ron or Rob.
And with her eyes firmly on his, she extended her legs and pushed her feet toward him. He slipped her shoe off the right foot.
He took her toes. Kneaded the fragile twigs.
She leaned back, the cables of her tendons rising beautifully from her neck. Her eyes squeezed shut. He caressed her skin with the blade.
A firm grip on the knife.
She closed her eyes, inhaled and gave a faint whimper. “Go ahead,” she whispered. And turned the girl’s face away. Hugged her tightly.
The bone collector imagined her in a Victorian outfit, crinoline and black lace. He saw the three of them, sitting together at Delmonico’s or strolling down Fifth Avenue. He saw little Maggie with them, dressed in frothy lace, rolling a hoop with a stick as they walked over the Canal bridge.
Then and now…
He nestled the stained blade in the arch of her foot.
“Mommy!” the girl screamed.
Something popped within him. For a moment he was overwhelmed with revulsion at what he was doing. At himself.
No! He couldn’t do it. Not to her. Esther or Hanna, yes. Or the next one. But not her.
The bone collector shook his head sadly and touched her cheekbone with the back of his hand. He slapped the tape over Carole’s mouth again and cut the cord binding her feet.
“Come on,” he muttered.
She struggled fiercely but he gripped her head hard and pinched her nostrils till she passed out. Then he hefted her over his shoulder and started up the stairs, carefully lifting the bag that sat nearby. Very carefully. It was not the sort of thing he wanted to drop. Up the stairs. Pausing only once, to look at young, curly-haired Maggie O’Connor, sitting in the dirt, looking hopelessly up at him.
TWENTY-THREE
HE SNAGGED THEM BOTH in front of Rhyme’s town-house.
Quick as the coiled snake that Jerry Banks was carrying at his side like a souvenir from Santa Fe.
Dellray and two agents stepped from an alley. He announced casually, “Got some news, honey dear. You’re under arrest for the theft of evidence under custodial care of the U.S. government.”
Lincoln Rhyme had been wrong. Dellray hadn’t made it to the federal building after all. He’d been staking out Rhyme’s digs.
Banks rolled his eyes. “Chill out, Dellray. We saved the vic.”
“And a mighty good thing you did, sonny. If you hadn’t we were gonna bring you up on homicide.”
“But we saved ’im,” Sachs said. “And you didn’t.”
“Thanks for that snappy recap, officer. Hold your wrists out.”
“This is bullshit.”
“Cuff this young lady,” the Chameleon said dramatically to a burly agent beside him.
She began, “We found more clues, Agent Dellray. He’s got another one. And I don’t know how much time we have.”
“Oh, and invite that thayre boy to ouah party too.” Dellray nodded to Banks, who turned to the woman FBI agent approaching him and seemed to be thinking of decking her.
Dellray said a cheerful, “No, no, no. You don’ wanna.”
Banks reluctantly held out his hands.
UNSUB 823 (page 1 of 3)
Appearance
Caucasian male, slight build
•Dark clothing
•Old gloves, reddish kidskin
•Aftershave; to cover up other scent?
Residence
•Prob. has safe house
•Located near: B’way &82nd,
•ShopRite B’way &96th,
• Anderson Foods
• Greenwich & Bank,
•ShopRite 2nd Ave., 72nd-73rd,
Vehicle
•Yellow Cab
•Recent model sedan
Other
•knows CS proc.
•possibly has record
•knows FR prints
•gun =.32 Colt
•Ties vics w/ unusual knots
•“Old” appeals to him
UNSUB 823 (page 2 of 3)
Appearance
•Ski mask? Navy blue?
•Gloves are dark
•Aftershave = Brut
Residence
• Grocery World Battery Park City
•J &G’s Emporium 1709 2nd Ave.,
• Anderson Foods 34th & Lex.,
•Food Warehouse8th Ave. & 24th,
Vehicle
•Lt. gray, silver, beige
Other
•Called one vic “Hanna”
•Knows basic German
•Underground appeals to him
•Dual personalities
•Maybe priest, soc. worker, counselor
UNSUB 823 (page 3 of 3)
Appearance
•Hair color not brown
•Deep scar, index finger
•Casual clothes
Residence
•ShopRite Houston & Lafayette,
•ShopRite 6th Ave. & Houston,
•J &G’s Emporium Greenwich & Franklin,
•Grocery World
•Old building, pink marble
Vehicle
•Rental car: prob. stolen
Other
•Unusual wear on shoes, reads a lot?
•Listened as he broke vic’s finger
Sachs, angry, offered the agent a cold smile. “How was your trip to Morningside Heights?”
“He still killed that cabbie. Our PERT boys’re crawling over that house now like beetles on dung.”
“And that’s all they’re going to find,” Sachs said. “This unsub knows crime scenes better than you and I do.”
“Downtown,” Dellray announced, nodding at Sachs, who winced as the cuffs ratcheted tight around her wrists.
“We can save the next one too. If you -”
“You know what you got, Officer Sachs? Take a guess. You gotchaself the right to remain silent. You got -”
“All right,” the voice called from behind them. Sachs looked around and saw Jim Polling striding along the sidewalk. His slacks and dark sports shirt were rumpled. It looked as if he’d napped in them, though his bleary face suggested he hadn’t slept in days. You could see a day’s growth of beard and his sandy hair was an unruly mess.
Dellray blinked uneasily though it wasn’t the cop he was troubled by but the tall physique of the U.S. attorney for the Southern District behind Polling. And bringing up the rear, SAC Perkins.
“Okay, Fred. Let ’ em go.” From the U.S. attorney.
In the modulated baritone of an FM disk jockey the Chameleon said, “She stole evidence, sir. She -”
“I just expedited some forensic analysis,” Sachs said.
“Listen-” Dellray began.
“Nope,” Polling said, completely in control now. No temper tantrums. “No, we’re not listening.” He turned to Sachs and barked, “But don’t you try to be funny.”
“Nosir. Sorry, sir.”
The U.S. attorney said to Dellray. “Fred, you made a judgment call and it went south. Facts of life.”
“It was a good lead,” Dellray said.
“Well, we’re changing the direction of the investigation,” the U.S. attorney continued.
SAC Perkins said, “We’ve been conferencing with the director and with Behavioral. We’ve decided that Detectives Rhyme and Sellitto’s positioning is the approach to pursue.”
“But my snitch was clear that something was going down at the airport. That’s not the sorta thing he’d be wishy about.”
“It comes down to this, Fred,” the U.S. attorney said bluntly. “Whatever the fucker’s up to, it was Rhyme’s team that saved the vics.”
Dellray’s lengthy fingers folded into an uncertain fist, opened again. “I appreciate that fact, sir. But -”
“Agent Dellray, this’s a decision that has already been made.”
The glossy black face – so energized at the federal building when he was marshaling his troops – was now somber, reserved. For the moment, the hipster was gone. “Yessir.”
“This most recent hostage would’ve died if Detective Sachs here hadn’t intervened,” the U.S. attorney said.
“That’d be Officer Sachs,” she corrected. “And it was mostly Lincoln Rhyme. I was his legman. So to speak.”